


You Worry Me

by Loserlovely



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I needed more penny and simon frienship fics, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Pre-Book 2: Wayward Son, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, baz isnt really in this sorry yall, everyone is a wreck, penny is the mom friend we all need in our lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loserlovely/pseuds/Loserlovely
Summary: I'm searching every room twice.I'm shaking.I shouldn't have left him alone....Penny is worried about her best friend, and Simon just wants everything to be normal.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	You Worry Me

**Penny**

He isn't there when I walk in the flat. 

We've had the same routine for weeks on end. I'll leave the house in the morning with Simon lying on our sofa—sometimes sleeping, sometimes not—and he'll be in the exact same position by the time I get home. As if he isn't moving at all. Which he probably  _ isn't. _ Worse, there'll be cans of empty cider and old crisp wrappers surrounding him like a shrine, while he mindlessly scrolls through stations on the telly. Simon's always clad in the same ratty trackies that haven't been washed in ages, running a hand through his overgrown, greasy curls—greasy, because it's probably been ages since  _ he's  _ been washed. 

But today, that isn't the case. Simon isn't on our sofa. The imprint of his figure is denting the cushions, as if he's turned himself invisible (he hasn't, has he? That happened once in first year, back when he hardly ever spoke. I had to go around throwing flour all over the place just to find him.) 

The telly is still on. The crushed up cider cans are in their usual spots...

"Simon? I've brought a pizza for dinner," I shout, setting the box on the kitchen counter and walking towards his room. Maybe he's decided to finally get some sleep somewhere other than the sitting room…

Nope. Nothing. Fuck.

I check the toilet, but Simon's not there either. In fact, I search the whole bloody flat, but he's nowhere to be found. His mobile is, though. It's resting on our coffee table. Where would he have gone that he wouldn't bring it with him? Sometimes I have to pry the damned thing out of his hands, he's so addicted to it.

_ I shouldn't have left him alone, _ I think.  _ He could be anywhere. Anything could be wrong. The fucking goblins could be after him again. _

I know it's overbearing to keep an eye on him at all times, but I have to. Just...just in case.

We all knew from the moment that The Mages body hit the floor of the White Chapel that Simon wasn't going to be the same. We knew he was going to be depressed. But I don't think anyone anticipated  _ this. _ I know I didn't—but then again, I've never been around anyone truly depressed, have I? 

I'm not qualified for what he's putting himself through.

Like the fact that he's neglected himself completely. The fact that he's hardly eating, or showering, or leaving the flat. He isn't talking to  _ anyone, _ full stop, not even that therapist he went two for a few weeks. I know he enrolled himself in university, but he hasn't gone in weeks. He doesn't even have a job—which is probably for the best. I'm not sure he could  _ handle  _ a job. Not right now, not with the way he is (though that leaves all the bills up to me. Baz has helped out quite a bit, since he's loaded, but he doesn't even  _ live _ here.)

Snakes alive, all of it scares the shit out of me.

I try my hardest to take care of him. Simon's my family for Crowley's sake, I can't just let him go through his depression alone. I can't let him go through  _ anything  _ alone, not at this point. I've stuck with him for nine years now, and I'll be tried and hung before I leave him to his own devices. He barely knows how to work the fucking kettle. But I can't be with him at all hours. I wish I could, but university's a tyrant, and I've got a Normal job at a bookstore that takes up a lot of my time. Baz is here most days when I'm not, since he's just as afraid for Simon's wellbeing as I am, but he's off in Oxford for some posh gathering with the Old Families for the weekend. 

So, having other things to tend to, I left Simon alone today. 

_ I shouldn't have. _

Because now I might've lost him. An entire fucking person. (Well done, Penelope!)

I can't stop the anxiety that's beginning to roll through me. I can't stop myself from thinking about what trouble he could be in—like fighting goblins, or in a knife fight with some thug who wants his wallet. He could be bleeding out in an alley in the middle of London, for all I know. Scared and alone and dying.

He could be  _ dead. _

I don't think I could handle that. I've thought about it too much lately, it can't be healthy, but how could I not? Even if he has no great big bad guy to defeat, even if the war is over, he's still got his own  _ mind. _ He's still living with the real horrors every day, and I think we're all scared shitless about where that could lead. 

Simon's never been one with words anyway, but if he isn't speaking to someone about all this trauma, how is anyone supposed to know when he's about to fall off the deep end? 

Has he already fallen?

I start pacing around the flat like a mad woman.  _ Think, think, think. _ Surely there's a spell for this…

**_"Come Out, Come Out, Wherever you are!"_ **

Nothing. 

(It's a child's spell, anyway. It usually only works at close range.)

(It's also the reason I always win at hide and seek.)

I shoot Baz a text, asking if he's heard from him, asking if Simon decided to go with him to Oxford for the weekend. I know it's a long shot—I honestly don't know what terms they're on anymore—but it's worth a try.

I'm searching every room twice. 

I'm shaking. 

_ I shouldn't have left him alone.  _

It hurts me to see Simon lying on the sofa, practically wasting away, but it absolutely  _ kills  _ me when I see him during one of his episodes. Sometimes he'll get in such a state that he won't recognize where he is, or he'll think he's still in that Chapel with The Mage and Ebb, lifeless on the ground. Simon will get this mad glint in his eyes, and he'll burst out in anger, and he won't be able to make sense of his surroundings, he'll get  _ so afraid and— _

And yet I  _ left. _ How could I just leave him? What if he went through an episode when I was gone?

_ I shouldn't have left him— _

"Penny? Hey, hey, Pen, calm down. What's wrong?"

I didn't realize I had sank to the floor, or that I had my head in my hands, but I snap my head up anyway, and there he is, shutting the door behind him and stalking over to me. He's carrying a brown paper bag in one hand, the other holding his tail. There's a great big trench coat on over his tracksuit, but I can still see the scaly red of his wings underneath it.

(He looks like the kind of bloke who would lure small children into a van with sweets, if I'm being honest. Or ask you for fifty quid outside a pub so he can go make a drug deal in a back alley.)

For once in my life, I don't have time for words. I just jump up and pull him into a shaky hug, letting out a sob muffled by his chest. Fuck, I hate crying in front of people, and he smells awful, but I can't help it. 

I mean, yeah, Simon's been through  _ so much. _ Much more than anyone else. But I've been right there with him the whole way, and it's had its impact on me, too. I guess this was just my tipping point—I haven't cried about it all since New Year's, and it's early September now.

I probably look mental, though I reckon he's seen me worse.

"I didn't know where you'd gone and I thought something had happened—"

He's not quite returning the hug, since he hates hugs, but he does start to rub my back soothingly and guides me towards our sofa.

"Shit, Pen, quit it. I'm sorry. Hey,  _ hey, _ Penny, look at me," he pulls me away from his chest and cranes his neck to look me in the eyes, guilt and confusion written all over his face. "I just went down to the corner shop to grab some stuff. I didn't mean to scare you or anything. I, erm, I didn't think you'd freak out like this? Why  _ are  _ you freaking out?" 

I remove my glasses and wipe at my face, suddenly feeling silly for jumping to conclusions. (I'm usually good at jumping to conclusions. I'm usually  _ right.) _

"Because I thought you'd been kidnapped! Or died!" 

He scrunches his eyebrows. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I'm worried about you, Simon!" 

  
  


**Simon**

I'm the worst person in the entire world when it comes to comforting people. 

I really, truly am shite at it. I never know what to say or do, and sometimes seeing someone cry will make  _ me  _ want to cry. Not always because I'm sad for them, but because it frustrates me. It makes me feel awful inside. I hate seeing people in pain, I hate the sound of someone crying...

Especially if that person is Penny. That's why I've got my arm wrapped around her right now, pulling her close in a way I hope is comforting. She's got herself worked up in such a state, and I just want her to calm down. I just want her to be happy again. She doesn't deserve to be so stressed, especially not over  _ me _ .

"You've been so down lately. Hell, I think this is the most you've talked in  _ weeks. _ And when I walked in and you were just  _ gone _ , I was afraid you'd—you'd done something to yourself."

Oh. 

Alright, sure, I'll admit I've thought about it. That things for Penny and Baz and, well, everyone really, would all be so much better if I just...went away. For good.

I mean, not just in the dying way. In the packing up my bags and hitting the road way, too. I could hop on the next train out of England, go up north to Scotland and find a place to live there. Or I could set up camp in, like, Amsterdam or something. Nobody from my life right now would find me, no one would feel burdened. I could get a flat and a job and find new friends. A fresh start.

Dying would be an easy way out, at least on my end, but I don't think I'm going to do that. Not purposefully. I'm not...I wouldn't…

I don't think death is what I want, exactly. I just want to be me again. To be  _ free.  _

I'm not at the point of ending it all. Even though if something  _ were  _ to, say, take me out, I wouldn't go out of my way to stop it. Even though I've basically clicked the exit button on everything in my life—my job, my boyfriend, my future. Even though the only thing I've done in the past two weeks is binge drink and watch  _ Law and Order. _

I'm still kicking. 

(Not kicking. It's more like occasionally swinging my foot out and hoping for the best.)

(Whatever.) 

"Pen, I keep telling you not to worry. I'm not—that won't happen, yeah?" 

"Simon, you haven't been well lately—"

"I know," I grimace. "I—I'm just—it doesn't matter. Just know that I'm not going anywhere. I promise." 

She sniffs and wipes her face again, but she's got more of her composure back (of course she does, she's Penelope Bunce, badass extraordinaire. She can go from sobbing to full Mum-Friend Mode in milliseconds.)

"I just want to make sure you're okay. You aren't taking care of yourself, and I worry about you when Baz and I aren't with you." 

"I'm grown, Penny, you two don't have to mother me all the time."

"But you need mothering! Crowley on a bicycle, Simon, you aren't even showering."

"But I don't—you and Baz—" My words aren't working. When are they ever  _ fucking _ working? "You don't need to treat me like I'm going to break at any second. Stop worrying about me. I'm not your problem to fix, so—so just leave me be." 

"What are you on about?" She asks, voice raising a bit. "You aren't a problem, Simon, you're my best friend! How can you expect me to just leave you alone?"

"Because I'm—" My voice cracks and I can't even say it. Can't even spit out the words because I'm such a coward.

_ A fuck up. _

_ A mistake.  _

_ A washed up Chosen One who can't be arsed to brush his own fucking teeth. _

Penny looks at me sadly, like she doesn't know what to say for once in her life. 

"Let's just... _ not _ right now, yeah? Don't wanna talk about it," I mumble, breathing out a sigh. 

(She looks like she wants to protest, but she doesn't, which must be a first. I don't think I've ever won a battle like this with Penny.)

I stand up and shrug off the trench coat that's been hiding my wings, and place the bag of food on the ground before sitting back down and pulling Penny into my chest. Before I know it, we're cuddled up on the couch, with a blanket thrown over us and all. 

It's a lot. I've always hated this kind of thing—cuddling—even if it's platonic. The physical contact makes me feel itchy, or like I'm suffocating. And I don't even really want to be around anybody right now, I don't have the energy. I'm only doing it because I feel guilty. I'm only doing this because I love Penny to death, because she's the only family I've ever had. The only person I know  _ loves me back,  _ and always will.

(I suppose I could count Baz, but I'll probably break up with him someday. That is, if he doesn't cut things off first—Christ knows he probably should. But Penny? There's no shrugging her off, not if she doesn't want you to. She doesn't do anything anyone else says unless she wants to herself.) 

I drape my wings over the two of us and turn on an episode of  _ Red Dwarf. _

  
  


**Penny**

I'm not sure I believe him.

I want to. I want to believe him so bad it hurts, but I'm unsure of everything these days. So unlike me, to not be certain, but these past several months have made a new person out of me.

I just need to think of a way to get him back on track, that's all. One that gets us  _ all _ back on track. Maybe a holiday. 

I don't think about that right now. 

Instead I lay with him watching  _ Red Dwarf _ , although the comic relief isn't really working right now. We share the pizza I had brought home, along with the cider he bought, until we're both dozing off on the sofa. We hardly even talk. 

When we thought about sharing a flat together during fourth year and beyond, we never imagined this. Never thought one of us would be a traumatized half-dragon missing his magic, or that his dread companion would have no idea how to handle the situation. But, well, it's our reality. 

Maybe someday it won't have to be. 


End file.
